Time Well Spent
by Orion9
Summary: It's a quiet, typical day on the NX01. Just who is Trip talking to?


Disclaimer: Enterprise and all related characters belong to Paramount. No profit is being made here. Any similarity is purely coincidental.

Spoilers: A teeny one for the Season Two episode _Dead Stop_. Also mentions an incident from my first fanfic, _Unexpected_.

A/N: The unexpected result of a little break from _Psyche and Sound_. Hope it makes you smile. Feedback and criticism welcomed.

____________________________________________________________________________________________

The flat stomach and long legs sticking out from under the console, clad in the standard Starfleet uniform, were the only parts currently visible of the lean frame that was hard at work underneath the table. His soft, pleasant drawl, narrating one of his more harrowing experiences on an alien world, filled the relative silence of the small room while expert fingers moved swiftly and steadily over the damaged areas, making the necessary replacements, adjustments and repairs.

"…and then, wouldcha believe it, after tellin' me what he'd planned for the princess, he had the gall to ask where she was …" Commander Charles 'Trip' Tucker III paused, his left hand reaching for a particular tool from the small pile of equipment situated somewhere beside his hip. For a brief moment, he groped blindly around before his searching fingers found what he was looking for.

The low grunt of satisfaction he made belied his exasperated look as he shifted his body slightly in order to peer out from under the table. With narrowed eyes, he sent his listening companion a withering glare.

"You could've helped to pass me that phase spanner, instead of jus' sittin' there, fallin' asleep on the job…" he complained and then grimaced at the solemn look of reproach he received in return. "Al'right, no need to remind me – you're jus' here to keep me company, nothin' more."

Apparently agreeing wholeheartedly with the whole sentiment, the target of the engineer's mock ire simply settled himself into a more comfortable position, accompanying the entire action with a long satisfied sigh. Shaking his head at the sleepy look of content in the other's dark gaze, Trip ducked under the console with a quiet laugh, tool in hand, and good humour once more firmly in place.

"You're definitely beyond help, my friend," he teased, not bothering to stop the grin from spreading across his handsome face as he concentrated on completing the last set of repairs. "And to think–"

"Talking to yourself, Commander?" The sardonic question interrupted him in mid sentence, the owner's amusement obvious in his droll tone. "You do know what they say about people who do that…"

Jerking slightly in surprise at the abrupt sound of another's voice, Trip cursed as he narrowly missed fusing his thumb and a couple of other fingers to some loose wiring. He didn't need to look out to see who it was who'd just joined them, the clipped British accent readily giving away the owner's identity.

"Y'know, Malcolm," Trip muttered, wriggling his fingers in front of his face and inspecting them carefully in the dim light. Satisfied that all his digits were still very much intact and in good working condition, especially his thumb, he continued dryly, "…in the Old West, you would've been shot for a lot less."

Although he couldn't see the younger man's face, Trip could tell by the sudden silence that he'd managed to catch the Lieutenant by surprise with his remark.

"Come again?"

"Sneakin' up on people like that."

Malcolm frowned. "I, Mr Tucker," he declared in a somewhat offended tone, "do not sneak–"

"Hah!" Trip peeped out from under the console to beam at the mildly irritated face. "You, Lieutenant Reed, are the master o' sneakin' up on the unsuspectin'. Look at what you jus' did t'me and–"

"I beg to differ…" Reed interjected, all ready to contest the claim when he noticed the twinkle in the clear blue eyes. Crossing his arms across his chest, he proceeded to glower at the man on the floor but soon gave up when he felt the sides of his lips lifting in response to the engineer's roguish grin.

"You," he accused with a pointed look, "are impossible."

"And you, m'friend," Trip quipped, "are way too easy."

Watching as the dark blond head promptly disappeared from sight, Malcolm asked idly, "So, who's the poor fellow? Or am I better off not knowing?"

"Huh?"

"You were declaring some chap as being beyond help when I–"

"… sneaked …"

"…entered the room just now," the Armoury Officer finished, steadfastly ignoring the interruption as well as the gleeful snort that had drifted out from under the console. 

"Oh that… What makes you think it was a guy?"

Another pregnant pause filled the air and Trip almost choked on his mirth. He could just visualise Malcolm's face as the man struggled to find a suitable response. After a few seconds, it came.

"Was that a trick question?"

The cautious, yet resigned, tone drew a stifled laugh from the amused engineer.

"Well?"

"Well, no," Trip answered, finally taking pity on his exasperated friend. "And I was talkin' 'bout Mr Sleepyhead over there."

"Who?"

Craning his neck as he followed the hand that had appeared and was gesturing wildly towards one part of the room, Malcolm chuckled when he eventually caught sight of the object of their conversation, happily snoozing behind a chair.

"Ahh, I see what you mean," the dark-haired officer mused, scrutinising the contented face and relaxed body with a critical eye. "He does give a whole new meaning to the term 'comfortable', doesn't he?"

"Yep. I'm guessin' he probably invented it, 'mong other words," Trip agreed, his voice muffled by the confines of his work area. Popping his slightly tousled head out once more, he silently studied his friend as an idea slowly formed. 

Catching sight of the look on Tucker's face, the young Lieutenant was immediately on his guard. If there was one thing he learnt about the Chief Engineer during their time together during this past year and a half, it was the man's penchant for getting himself, and whomever that was currently with him, into mind-boggling mischief. The last time he went along with one of Trip's madcap plans when the engineer had that particular gleam in his eyes, they'd both found themselves transported, in mid-crawl no less, from a narrow, restricted conduit of an automated repair station right onto _Enterprise_'s bridge. 

Malcolm winced as he remembered the dressing down they'd received from a furious Archer following that particular embarrassing incident. It was not something that he'd wish to repeat. Ever. His voice dripping with suspicion, he asked warily, "What is it?"

"You wanna join us?" Trip asked, blue eyes dancing. 

"What?" 

"I'll probably be here awhile but later, after dinner, we could…"

"Oh, no…" Malcolm held up a hand with a slight grimace, equally amused and appalled at the same time when he'd suddenly realised where the other man was heading with the conversation. "Don't tell me. I don't want to know. And, whatever you have planned, count me out."

"Some friend yer turnin' out to be," Trip grumbled darkly as he wiggled out and sat up with a scowl. "We," he stated, waving his hand in a gesture that encompassed both him and his slumbering companion, "are deeply offended by your refusal t'help us out or t'spend some quality time in our company."

"Nice try, Commander," Malcolm retorted, glad for the opportunity to turn the tables on the gregarious engineer. Smirking at the disgruntled look on the man's face, he intoned, "As I recall, the last time **you** attempted one of your 'plans' with wonder sidekick over there, **we** ended up locked in the Captain's Mess…"

"Hey! **That** was an accident and y'know it–"

"Besides, I have a lot of paperwork to finish up in the Armoury," Malcolm went on without any sign that he heard the strangled, indignant protest, slowly backing out of the room at the same time. He made a show of looking at the time, features taut with concentration.

"But–"

"Which I think I'd better get started on so, have fun you two…" He paused near the door and took a deep breath, eyes narrowing. "Just … don't do anything I wouldn't…?"

"Excuses … excuses," Trip muttered under his breath as he watched the younger officer turn and walk out of the room in a much quicker version of his customary stride. Resting his arms on his raised knees, the engineer turned and met languid, intelligent dark brown eyes, his mouth twitching at the cute canine face that seemed to smile up at him.

"Well, Porthos, ol' buddy," he smiled when the beagle, at the mention of his name, lifted his head up, cocked ever so slightly to one side, to look at him. The other end of the small dog was also in motion – his white-tipped tail swished energetically from side to side as Trip continued cheerfully, "Guess that leaves jus' you and me t'night. Can't wait 'til tomorrow, hmm?"

"Woof!"

"Uh huh," Trip agreed with a nod, ducking under the console and resuming the repairs. "It'll sure be good to have the Cap'n, Hoshi and Travis back on board 'gain. Let's hope their meeting went well. We'll get some dinner once I'm done here, al'right?"

His grin widened as another enthusiastic bark greeted his pronouncement. "Yeah, I enjoyed your company too. The last couple o' days was time well spent, doncha agree? And it's not like we get into trouble…" Trip's hands slowed for a moment and he blinked at the sudden memory, "… err … much. Malcolm definitely doesn't know what he's missin'."

A soft, almost imperceptible whine.

"You said it. In the meantime, while yer waitin', lemme tell you what happened next. So, where was I? Oh right … that slime Ri'krd was askin' me 'bout the princess, although at the time I couldn't remember who the hel… uh … heck t'guy was …"

The End


End file.
